


Some Times (Time and Time Again)

by RenaRoo



Category: Blue Beetle (Comics), Booster Gold (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-17 21:08:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16981830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: Booster Gold and the rest of the Time Masters are still straightening up things in the wake of the most recent universal Rebirth. But Rip Hunter is still missing in the aftermath, leaving Booster in charge with Skeets, Michelle, and Rani. But there’s a distraction for Booster, one he can’t keep himself from ignoring.Ted Kord, miraculously, is still alive. And that makes everything more complicated than Michael could have ever imagined.





	1. Blue Beetle

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been toying around with this idea for what feels like forever, at least since the Rebirth books got launched over at DC, and I finally got time to really sit down and work it out. I’m really excited for this fic and hope it’s decent enough for some of you out there!

Life without an assistant, as it turns out, is shockingly compressed on time.

Jaime doesn’t need much help on his progress as the Blue Beetle, but so long as he  _is_ the Blue Beetle, Ted has no interest in slacking on the kid’s training. Assistant or no assistant.

With his laptop balancing precariously on his knee, and himself balancing precariously on the sloping hood of the Beetle, Ted is attempting to keep track of company stocks, a slack chat with members of his board, an incoming tech report from some computer analyst he hired out of Jaime’s high school last week, and not waste  _too_ much of his bagel in the process.

Despite the distractions, however, Ted’s real concentration is still on Jaime’s blaster as it destroys thousands of dollars and hundreds of man hours of equipment in the simulation fight.

It’s what Ted built it for, but  _still_ …

“Seriously, Mister Kord, I have to go meet my mom in, like, fifteen minutes,” Jaime shouts out over the sounds of debris dinging against the lab’s metal floors. He’s not even looking in Ted’s direction as he wastes  _another_ AI dummy that is gunning for him.

Feeling himself sliding a bit, Ted kicks back against the Beetle some to get back on his perch, his computer bobbing with the jarring, bagel bits flying. He wonders if an assistant would have helped with the bagel parts. And then he plays back the memory of Jaime’s highly pitched complaints.

“Hey, hey! How many times do I have to tell you, it’s not  _Mister Kord,_ kid, it’s  _Ted,”_ he argues on the important part.

Jaime’s suit unites his hand blasters into a single canon and blasts through more expensive equipment. He then looks over his shoulder and squints his large, buggy yellow eyes at Ted. “Maybe you should stop calling me  _kid_ then,  _Ted!_ Also, you’re missing the part where I’m warning you about a very angry Missus Reyes.”

Ted answers an email by holding the remains of his bagel between his teeth. Then he tilts his head back and swallows what he can, choking a bit, and accidentally sending a string of keyboard smashes to his company’s board of executives in response to a question about why so much money is being poured into  _Extraneous Funding._ Bits of extraneous funded superhero training material flies toward Ted and the Beetle and if Ted didn’t know any better, he’d think Jaime was aiming in spite.

“Watch it, Jaime! I just buffed out the last dent in the Bug,” Ted warns, using his not-free-but-freer hand to rub the glistening hood to his side.

There’s a keening noise coming from the scarab on Jaime’s back that is only matched in annoyance by the groaning that Jaime’s doing on top of it. “Mister Kord!”

“ _Ted!”_

 _“Ted!_ My mom! Ten minutes!”

Stock prices do dip, there’s  _another_ email update from this needy El Paso kid-slash-computer-genius, the board is up in arms at the insufficient response, Ted feels his stomach churning either in response to the million nasty things happening  _or_ to his bagel. And it all culminates in a tremor through his lower spine.

Despite or because of everything happening, Ted slips more from his spot, his body shifting and sliding right off the nose of the Bug. He, and all of his things, hit the floor in a clatter that manages to get Jaime to turn away from his training simulation entirely.

“Whoa! Ted, are you okay?” he asks just before getting hit by a blaster from behind.

“See! Never let your guard down!” Ted manages to yell before rolling over onto his back and laying in his mess of a lab and mess of a life. “Not even for your great and mighty mentor.”

He continues to lie on the floor, noting mentally that it’s surprisingly comfortable given that everything exploding in the lab eventually ends up there. It’s only when his vision is obscured by Jaime — no longer in his suit — staring down at him that he centers himself  _at least_ enough to be responsible for the teenager that he’s  _totally_ responsible for.

“Are you okay, Mister Kord?” Jaime asks, brows knitted in a little bit more genuine concern than what he usually offers Ted.

“I thought about it,” Ted answers with a harrowing breath. He releases the breath and melts into the floor a bit more. “And no. But who, at thirty-six, can truthfully say yes to that question.”

Jaime looks at him like he has three heads.

“Talk to me again in twenty years and we’ll laugh about it,” Ted promises him. “Get out of here, I don’t need a scary-angry Missus Reyes and  _you_ deserve a break. What’d’ya say?”

“Okay cool,” Jaime says, immediately walking away.

“You cold offer to help me up!” Ted yells after him.

“Do you  _want_ up?” Jaime asks from the doorway.

Ted stares at the ceiling and considers it. “Get out of here kid, I need to find a new assistant.”

“See you later, Mister Kord,” Jaime calls, closing the door behind himself and the last laugh.

“Kids,” Ted huffs to himself. “I need an assistant  _my_ age. No. Ten years younger. So I can watch the hope and youthful naivety die. That should sustain me. Think like a corporate CEO. Socioipathy. Hating kittens and… breathable oxygen or something.”

There’s a long silence in the lab, just Ted with himself and his thoughts. And when those turn scary he finally manages to get himself up, gather his things, and to start working on the next project.

Finding his new personal assistant.

There has been a stack of portfolios on his desk for a while, now, a few days at least. And he  _should_ be going through them for review but he hasn’t.

They all look the same on paper. Even the one written in German.

There isn’t enough time, and he’s only getting  _shorter_ on time the longer he goes without a personal assistant who is  _literally_ a speedster.

Time’s a funny thing that way.

Ted finds ways to waste more time without fully committing to any project or any responsibility in a way that matters before giving up in defeat and burying his head into the paperwork on his desk. There aren’t as many pings from his computers and he could  _probably_ rewire some of the broken lab equipment sooner than later, but he’s not  _really_ doing anything by the time his bagel fullness has subsided into the ache of needing a lunch break.

Which, on a normal day, is when Ted can finally get a hold of everything and pick a direction. He doesn’t really get the opportunity, though.

His head is still on the desk when an unfamiliar, radiant light picks up somewhere in the center of the lab, sending out a subtle heat that dies down with the light itself.

It hasn’t been that long since lizard people attacked so it doesn’t  _automatically_ raise Ted’s hackles the way it probably should, but it does at least get him to look up from his desk and see that the light was from some sort of transportation used to enter his lab.

And the one who used the transportation was none other than his best-friend-then-gone, and oddly out of touch, for years.

Booster Gold stares at him from the center of the room, his goggles resting up on his hairline rather than on his nose, letting Ted see the way Booster’s eyebrows ruffle together. They then raise in almost  _shock_  as he continues staring Ted’s way.

Ted blinks a few times. “Mikey?”

There’s a deep breath from Booster before he even  _blinks._ Then he shakes his head, as if trying to parse reality, before finally looking at Ted again. “Beetle!” he blurts out, like it’s something he hasn’t gotten to shout in years.

Which, who knows, maybe he hasn’t.

“Did you just teleport into my office-slash-laboratory?” Ted tries to figure out.

“Of course I did!” Booster shouts again, laughing forcefully. He almost seems hoarse already.

“That’s…  _weird._ Since when could you teleport?” Ted continues to question. “Also  _why?_ And. Uh. Hello. Been a while.”

“It has been. It’s been… way too long,” Booster continues, seeming breathless. “Wow. Okay. Cool.”

He seems so incredibly happy and relieved and just all these other emotions that Booster doesn’t wear comfortably.

And Ted, well, he’s growing impatient the more the confusion lingers.

“Yeah, it’s like the last time I saw you was in a car commercial,” Ted says flatly.

“Ha, yeah,” Booster replies without any weight to it.

“Probably because it  _was,”_ Ted leans in.

That, at least, seems to bring down the thousand watt smile to something closer to a nine hundred. “Oh.”

The air becomes stale unbelievably quickly.

“Yeah,” is all Ted can manage to say.

Booster continues to stare at him, some of the disbelief finally fading into mild concern. Which, Ted kind of hates because only  _Booster_ could make him feel like the bad guy for pointing out the truth.

Well, maybe other people, like a well paid assistant someday in the near future.

“Did we leave off on bad terms?” Booster asks, obviously fishing.

“I don’t know,” Ted answers honestly. “Did we?”

With that, Booster’s brows furrow again and he tilts his chin down, running his hand through the back of his hair nervously. “Hell, I don’t know. I.. There’s been a lot, y’know. Just. A lot. And… I didn’t know I could… if you…”

There is something to Booster’s words and actions that feels disconnected. He’s holding back a lot, which is weird. Because it’s Booster.

But the sentiment, well, Ted knows it all too well.

“Yeah, I get it. Me, too,” Ted huffs. “I guess… I mean. There’s not a whole lot to hang out about when, well, I’m retired and you’re… not? I guess. I don’t know where you even live anymore.”

“I can’t…  _really_ retire from the current gig,” Booster announces, again with that veiled subject. But he’s quick to change topic. “And there’s  _every reason_ to hang out with you. In fact, I’m glad you’re retired. Fuck, man, you  _better_ be retired and…” He stops himself short, pinches the bridge between his eyes, and then comes back to focus. “I came to ask if you… if you wanna get some drinks?”

“You teleported into my office-slash-laboratory to ask if we could get drinks before noon on a Tuesday?” Ted asks incredulously.

Booster blinks, looks around the mess of a lab, and then looks at Ted again. “Uh. Yeah?”

Ted considers it only for a second before sighing and coming to his feet. “Okay, fine, you’ve convinced me.”

“Wow, that took… no work whatsoever,” Booster says in vacant surprise.

“It’s been a hell of a morning and I want to figure out what’s different with you,” Ted announces. “I mean, again, last time I saw you was a car commercial—“

“Did I look good in it?” Booster asks almost mindlessly, his gaze a thousand yards past Ted at the time.

“No, the whole thing was on your bad side. You know. Where your chin looks bad,” Ted responds sarcastically, looking Booster over. “Seriously, what’s up?”

“Just drinks,” Booster promises, holding up his hands.

Ted squints at him. “Drinks and… mole people? Time eating octopus? A heist for J’onn’s Chocos?”

“Do you really think so little of me?” Booster asks, actually  _looking_ at Ted again. He seems… strangely earnest about it all. In a raw, painful kind of way.

Ted leans back, worried. “Uh. Did someone die?”

“No,” Booster laughs. Only, it’s not just a laugh, it’s an uproarious joyful kind of noise from the back of Booster’s throat. “Isn’t that the greatest thing you’ve ever heard? Isn’t that the  _best news_ I’ve ever given you? No one’s… Everyone’s… Wow. I sound like I’ve lost my mind.”

Booster walks past Ted and all but  _collapses_ into Ted’s desk chair, crumbling like a fallen tower, until his head has fallen between his knees.

Ted is stunned. And worried. Mostly stunned.

“Jesus, Michael,” Ted manages to get out as he approaches his friend. He looks around his desk, grabbing for the menus he knows are somewhere among the rubbish. “We’ll just order and have something delivered here for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Booster continues hoarsely. “That sounds… Yeah, that’s an amazing idea, Teddy.”

At the sound of his old nickname, Ted has to pause looking through low sodium options and instead really  _looks_ at his friend. He’s pale and has bags under his eyes. There’s a certain unkempt nature to his hair and it’s sticking up behind his ears like it hasn’t been trimmed in a while. He’s clean shaven, but there’s the dusting of five o’clock shadow on his left cheek from an uneven shave.

It’s the worst Michael has looked to his knowledge. At least short of any life-or-death situations.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Ted not so much as asks as he  _demands._

“A lot,” Booster answers.

That’s not good enough and it explains nothing. And normally Ted wouldn’t think twice about saying as much. But for the moment, in that uniquely personal and miserably resigned way, Ted gives a gentler “Okay” instead.

When the air grows stale again, Ted tries a different approach.

“Is there anything you  _can_ tell me?”

Booster smiles just enough that his dimples make themselves known. “You’ll never have any idea how happy I am to see you again, Ted.”

Despite his confusion and concern, Ted can’t help the no-doubt dorky smile that comes to his face. “Right back at you,” he says, and it’s so truthful it hangs heavy in his voice. He offers up, in a mousy way, his fist. “Blue and Gold?”

There’s a brittle honesty to the expression of relief and appreciation in Booster’s face as he takes his own fist and bumps his knuckles against Ted’s. “Blue and Gold,” he says back almost reverently.

For a moment, Ted wonders how this is going to end, if it will be too soon or too long. He’s just strangely concerned and glad all at once that it exists at all.

So, of course, predictably, it ends too soon.

There’s a flash in the center of the laboratory, just like before, only this time both Ted and Michael are looking in its direction before it’s even over.

Booster manages to voice his surprise before Ted even has the chance.

“Skeets?” Booster’s voice strains.

“Michael, you’re needed for…” Skeets’ synthesized voice hesitates, if such a thing is possible for an AI, and the shiny robotic body shifts into Ted’s direction for a moment. “Hello, Blue Beetle.”

“Hey, I have a secret identity,” Ted jokes, waving to his Blue Beetle themed tee and the Bug.

Skeets, ever the comedic one, does not even acknowledge the detectable sarcasm in Ted’s voice before turning back to Booster. “Sir, you have an…  _appointment._ With Rani.”

Ted can’t help his eyebrow raising and he looks toward Booster for clarification. He’s never heard the name  _Rani_ before, at least that he can think of. And he definitely hasn’t heard the name in connection to Booster.

But there is immediate recognition in Booster’s eyes. His body tenses up and he seems immediately more put together than he has appeared since teleporting right back into Ted’s life. He doesn’t even seem to realize that Ted is looking directly at him.

“Is she okay? I mean, does it have to be  _right now_  or…” Booster trails off, looking to Ted.

“I have been sent after you, Michael,” Skeets deadpans.

“Can’t you reschedule?” Ted asks, a little put off by all of this rather sudden and unexpected developments.

“It’s not that kind of date,” Booster says, getting to his feet and then flinching at his own words. “It’s… not a date at all it’s…” He seems uncomfortable in his own skin for a moment, scratching at his chin. “You…uh… I guess we should catch up. Soon. Like,  _really_ soon. You don’t know Rani? Really? Damn. I mean…”

“No,” Ted says flatly, crossing his arms as he sits back on his desk. “I guess we should catch up soon. Like over a lunch or something.”

“Okay, great,” Booster says, walking forward.

“I’d say pop in any time, but that seems to be the assumption—“ Ted begins to snark, but he’s cut off almost immediately by the tight embrace of Booster. It’s so tight it nearly knocks the air out of him.

Booster’s been working out since they last got into shenanigans together, it feels like he’s cutting off Ted’s circulation almost just through the hug. It’s warm, though, and it feels like the sort of emotional explosion that Ted would expect after years. Without the random teleportations and promises of lunch left thus far unfulfilled.

After a moment of the hug, Ted is finally able to gather himself enough to hug back, too, patting Booster’s shoulder as he does so.

“I miss you, too, buddy,” Ted says.

“It won’t be long, I’ll… I can promise that,” Booster says, finally letting go, holding Ted’s shoulders at arms length. “There’s just… some really hard stuff to explain going on right now.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Ted jokes as Booster lets him go. “It’s… uh. Well it’s good to see you again. And will be again. Soon. Ish? Right?”

“Definitely,” Booster promises, getting close to where Skeets is in the center of the lab. “I’m… It’s great to see you again, Ted.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ted responds, waving just as the flash of light from before happens again, disappearing along with his best friend and his best friend’s robot from the future.

He remains where he is, leaned back on his desk, and tilts his head to the side.

“So how do I explain any of this in my log today,” he wonders out loud. After a long moment, he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “ _Blue and Gold Nonsense_ it is then.”


	2. Time Masters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, everyone! I don’t have much of an excuse other than end of the year/start of the year shenanigans. But I’m back and hoping to write a lot more consistently now!
> 
> Special thanks to sinkburrito, SheWhoDancesUnderTheMoon, Erie, @secretlystephaniebrown, @fred-astairs-dark-impulses, @shibascarf, @kaldurrr, @bibliofilariidae, @spacedolphinsanddandelions, @spiralcass, and @noartificialfruitjuice

Time Lab is, still, a complete and utter disaster.

Sparks fly from gadgetry that even Michelle’s 25th century mind cannot comprehend, there’s a random wormhole that she thinks is still appearing in the cupboard, and for reasons  _beyond_ comprehension, her room and Michael’s room switched at some point after the Flashpoint tipped over into the current reality they were a part of.

She stands at the center of the catastrophe that is their home, worrying her lip as she looks around and tries to think straight — tries to think  _What Would Rip Do?_ without any clear answer in sight.

There is a certain level of chaos that, as a time traveler herself, and as a sometime-quasi-assistant to her brother, she is more than familiar with. It felt like ( _was?_ ) only yesterday that she helped punch a Confederate soldier riding a sabre tooth tiger. And that was… well, it wasn’t  _fine_ but it was  _manageable_ by her estimates.

This seemed far less so. This…

Well, it’s a disaster. And no matter whether Rip would do  _this_ rather than  _that_ or anything else her frazzled mind can conceive, the fact of the matter is that Michelle Carter is  _not_ Rip Hunter.

And so far as she can tell in this strange, new, all-but- _rebirthed_ reality that the space time continuum has chosen,  _no one else is either._

Such a revelation, such a  _concept,_ scares her more than an entire army of racist soldiers riding extinct mammals.

Worrying her lip some more, Michelle wonders what else she’s missing, what else she can  _do_ just as a familiar energy courses through the room just behind her. She spins around and races toward her twin.

“Mikey! Oh, thank god,” she breathes in a flood of relief before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I am  _so sorry_ I had to send Skeets after you. I know you were going to see how things were with… with  _Ted_ , but—“

“They’re good,” Michael says quickly, lightly and awkwardly patting her back. “Also, someone needs a shower.”

She backs off enough to look in his face and glare. “Are you kidding right now? All the stuff I’ve been doing to pick up debris and get our rooms organized and repair the power—“

“Yeah, you’ve done great,” he mocks, walking forward and carefully lifting up a hanging wire in order to pass it.

“Don’t mess with me right now, Michael, I’m tense,” she continues to warn, walking in step behind him.

“I’m not  _entirely_ kidding,” he throws her a bone, heading toward the corridor on the other side of the main lab and instinctively heading toward Rani’s room. “How bad is it?”

Michelle takes a reflexive breath, her heart aching with a dull but familiar pain as they neared their ward’s bedroom. She hates this — hates being all but useless when it comes to Rani and her emotional needs. She understands  _why_ in these horrible moments it has to be Michael there for Rani, but she can hardly stand it all the same.

Even Rip, grouchy as he is ( _was?_ ), can get a smile from Rani just by mentioning his name.

And it helps Michelle to continue feeling like chopped liver.

“She hasn’t been able to go to sleep,” Michelle answers at last. She instinctively worries at her lip again as they draw closer to the door. “She’s… She’s been asking for Rip.”

Hand flat against the door, Michael stops. He looks back at her, a certain creese growing between his brows.

There is a moment that can only pass between twins as they lock eyes. A sort of doubling of the emotions they both feel — sorrow, regret, confusion, apprehension. It strikes like lightning, right through Michelle’s core. But it’s  _shared_. They both  _know_ the feeling that they’re sharing and in the moment, it’s a little lighter of a burden to share.

For a moment, they’re less alone with their thoughts.

Once the moment’s passed, Michael turns back to the door and pushes their way on through.

Rani’s room is the first one that both Michelle and Michael prioritized and, as a result, it’s the least disastrous of the Time Lab. The walls are still honey yellow with explosions of rainbows, hearts, and butterflies all over. It’s the perfect nine-year-old’s room. Complete holographic solar system borrowed from the thirty-second century and all.

Despite being surrounded by the room’s aesthetic warmth and the comforts of her own century’s technology and gadgetry, Rani is tensely wrapped up in her duck covered pajamas once they enter the room.

She’s biting her nails again and that causes a pang through Michelle.

It all changes, though, once Rani looks over and sees her favorite person in the galaxy and worlds. Rani lights up, leaping to her feet and jumping from the bed to Michael’s waiting arms.

“Mikey! You’re back!” she cries out with the sort of jubilation people usually reserve for concerts or ballgames.

“Of course I am,” he says with the boisterous confidence he’s able to project so easily. He wraps his arms around Rani and securely walks her back to the bed. “And  _you_ are still up, young lady! It’s past your curfew.”

Michelle lingers, watching securely by the door. She tells herself it’s because she’s waiting on her brother to continue more serious conversations. In her heart she knows it’s at least partially to somehow learn his secrets in dealing with Rani. Or maybe to just answer the question of how  _Michael Jon Carter_ received the parental genes she’s lacking.

“I’m waiting,” Rani argues, squeezing Michael so tightly that she’s scratching the back of his neck. She’s  _afraid_ to let  _go._ And that causes another pang.

“You know, I learned a secret,” Michael informs her, laying her back into bed and curling himself around her enough that her back is secure against the mattress without forcing her to let go of his neck just yet. “A secret about how to wait for things in your sleep.”

“I just want to wait,” she yawns. “I don’t need sleep yet.”

“Sure you don’t, kiddo, I know that,” he chuckles, leaning back slowly enough that Rani begins to slip her grip of him. “ _I_ know you  don’t need it, and  _you_ know you don’t need it.” He then covers the side of his face with the back of his hand before stage whispering loud enough for Michelle to hear. “It’s  _Michelle_ who hasn’t learned it yet.”

That elicits a giggle from Rani, but all Michelle has to offer is a frustrated sigh and the roll of her eyes.

“Bad guy yet again,” Michelle mutters to herself.

“Mikey,” Rani mumbles, words beginning to roll from her mouth between deep breaths and yawns. “I want to wait up.”

“Wait up for what, sweetheart?” Michael asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

“For… for another  _explosion,”_ she answers, her sleep deprived eyes opening wide once again. “Oh, Mikey. There’s going to be another one.”

“No, no there’s…”

Protectively stiffening up, Michelle scowls and clears her throat.

Michael glances back at her, looking like a kicked dog. But he’s not going to successfully guilt her this time.

They have already agreed. They can’t continue to make promises like that to Rani. Not with the way their lives work. Not with how much it has shaken Rani up to go through the near destruction of another home.

If their word is going to mean anything, they have to stop giving out promises they can’t guarantee.

Giving up, Michael sighs and looks back at Rani. “Listen, Rani. I’m sorry… I’m sorry that things got so scary for you. If I could, I would have stopped it from happening at all.”

Michelle breathes deeply and closes her eyes. She knows Michael’s telling the truth — he tried,  _god_ did he and Rip try. It was an impossible task, to stitch the worlds and time and space itself together while everything they had ever known melted and regrew before their eyes. A thankless, impossible mission.

It gave them a world that was  _almost_ the same, and yet too different to feel comfortable in. The air tasted more bitter. The Sundollar had reinstated its ban on Booster Gold. And stuff that seemed so incidental — like the location of someone’s bedroom — changed in a way to make everything feel different than home.

And Rip…

They still hadn’t seen any sign of Rip, or found any trace of his existence.

Brave, new, terrible world.

“I want to wait for  _Boppy,”_ Rani continues, grinding her teeth together. “I miss him.”

“Rip could be away for a while, kiddo, you know the drill,” Michael says quickly and naturally. “Saving the world, big important missions. All that stuff.”

“But Boppy says  _you_ always do the flashy stuff. He likes doing the smart stuff,” Rani argues, her brows knitting together. “He’s  _never_ gone this long.”

“We’re just doing what we can, Rani, and I’m sure he misses you even more than you miss him,” he promises. “But one thing’s for sure, he wants to see a  _well rested, not tired_ Rani. Not a grumpy little mess.”

And with that, Michael reaches forward and tickles Rani beneath her arms, causing her to squirm and giggle. “I’m not grumpy!”

“Oh, yes you are, you’re a  _way_ grumpy,” he argues, finally stopping and smirking down at her. “It kind of makes you look like Rip.”

Rani giggles and rejects the notion, but as she settles down, she’s more tired and slow. Her eyes already heavy and hardly opened. “But if Boppy doesn’t come home soon… won’t you go out and make him come home again, Mikey?  _Please?_ I just don’t want bad things to happen to him.  _Please._ ”

Michael sat back a bit and took a breath. Michelle hoped, beyond hope, it was to steel himself for delivering slight disappointment.

By now, she really should have known better.

“Okay, Rani, I promise,” he says before leaning forward and kissing her forehead.

“Thank you, Mikey,” she yawns and turns to her side.

Michelle shakes her head, even as Michael stands up and begins to come her way.

“Michael!” she hisses at him.

He shushes her and then closes the door behind them. “Careful, I can’t sweet talk her a second time tonight.”

Michelle juts out her jaw and glares at him as they go down the hall. “I can’t believe you would —  _we agreed not to make promises —“_

“I said we wouldn’t make promises we  _can’t keep,”_ Michael shrugs, heading for the kitchen.

“And you can keep that, huh?” Michelle demands, following close after. “You’re just gonna pull Rip Hunter out of thin air?  _Hm?”_

“Not out of thin air,” Michael says, pausing in front of the chalkboard, giving it a once over before continuing his march forward. “Maybe out of  _thin chronal space_. Maybe. Not sure. I’ll double check with Skeets to see if it’s possible. Where’d he go off to, anyway?”

“You know how to deal with chronal space all by yourself now?” Michelle asks critically, folding her arms.

“Yeah,” Michael says, opening the nearly bare fridge.

“Since when?” Michelle continues to press.

Michael doesn’t even look her way as he grabs a bottle of beer. “Rip taught me.”

She watches him carefully for a moment, beginning to go numb toward those pangs of guilt and empathy that had become so prevalent when she was around either Michael or Rani anymore.

“Do you want one?” Michael asks, grabbing at a second beer before closing the door.

“Yeah,” she says, though he’s already knowingly handing it to her. She looks at the heavy exhaustion over her brother’s face as he collapses into one of the remaining chairs. “You okay? How’d it go with Ted?”

“Great. Horrible. I think I threw up on the way back,” he sighs, letting his head hang back and his eyes close. “I maybe cried a little? You’re officially never allowed to tell anyone though.”

“Noted,” she says, twisting off the cap of her beer and scooting onto the countertop. “But he’s… Everything’s good here? In this world, I mean?” She bites her lip. “I’m asking about Ted. I’m. Trying to wrap my mind around it.”

“Same,” Michael sighs, flipping off the cap of his beer and taking a long drink. He drops the bottle down and wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “I mean. I waited. I read every archive available. I broke into the Justice League and hacked the files to just… just see in case and…”

“Michael,” Michelle admonishes in a tone that is  _way too mom._

“I had to know. Just to be sure,” he argues, sitting straighter so he can stare into her face. “It’s him. The real him. He’s… he’s two and a half years older than he… than he once was. Hung up the suit. Training Jaime  _himself._ And…”

Michelle looks worriedly at her brother.

Michael bites his lip. “I think maybe I —  _me?_ this me? Myself? — did something stupid, though. Like. He was surprised to see me.”

“Surprised to see you? Because you teleported in or because you are on no-speaking terms?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers unhelpfully.

“Mikey,” she sighs, exasperated. “We… we really should wait a bit longer. Get this place fixed up, get our bearings. And really… investigate this place. It’s not… It’s not the way things used to be. And we could still get caught off guard with these things.”

“I already agreed to go out,” he blurts out. When Michelle looks at him, he eases back some. “Just for drinks. Not… I just. We agreed to see each other again. Soon. And. And I  _have_ to, Michelle. I…. Damn, I’m just happy to see him.”

Dropping her head, Michelle stares at her lap. She can’t help Rani. Michael won’t listen. Rip is gone. The entire lab is a disaster. And Michelle is slowly, but surely, losing her sanity.

“I don’t want you to ever be hurt like that, Mikey,” she says lowly, scratching at a thread on her jeans. “So… so lonely and… miserable… and  _mourning._ I don’t know if I can pull you through that again.” For not the first time that day, warm tears well up in her eyes as she stares helplessly at her knees. “And I don’t think… I don’t think the change — the universe’s  _rebirth_ or whatever it is that you said it was… I don’t think Rip made it. He’s not here to help us anymore, Michael, and I’m  _so scared._ ”

Silence falls between the twins, but the flow of emotions and tension doesn’t move on. It festers as they drink their beers in silence.

So much silence, in fact, that they can hear the tell-tale signs of a teleportation.

They glance back at each other.

“Was that  _to_ or  _from?”_ Michael asks her wearily.

“There’s a different sound for each?” Michelle asks, astonished.

“Check Rani’s room,” he orders, leaping to his feet and racing toward the lab.

“What? Michael! I mean —  _dammit!”_ she curses before leaping to her own feet and racing through the back of the lab.

She’s running toward the corridors when a splotch of white not he chalkboard catches her off guard.

Despite herself and her buckets of nerves, she slides to a stop and stares in awe of the writing on the bottom corner of the chalkboard. “Who… Mikey? Did you—“

“It’s was a  _from_ teleport, Sis! Someone left from here that— Didn’t you check Rani’s room?  _Michelle! Dammit!”_ Michael roars, sounding more Booster Gold than Michael Carter as he flies past her and toward Rani’s room.

Michelle looks after him, heart racing. Michael lets out a yell, screaming Rani’s name as he comes racing back.

“She’s gone! She’s teleported out, but why!? Michelle! Are you listening!?”

“I know where she went,” Michelle says, pointing at the chalkboard as her brother points beside her.

“What the hell? Is that… is that  _Rip’s_ writing? No… Who…” Michael says, glancing around.

But Michelle is still staring at the words on the chalkboard.

_Ted Kord is KEY._


End file.
